The Flames Shall Prevail
by Tried Hemlock Once
Summary: "Let it be known that humans are strong, once given the chance to be." Elias was once lost, but he was found. He was once weak, but he grew strong. He was once a little boy and what do little boys do? Elias grew up. Now he must face another challenge that will test him and the endurance of his principles. Will Elias die and be replaced by something monstrous? Let's find out.


A/N: Okay, here's the deal. This is a Harry Potter/Avengers crossover with a MaleOC. I doubt there will be any romantic developments unless viewers send enough messages and/or reviews that convince me to make it so.

Elias Child Jr., a basic description: androgynous male, said to be asexual, not religious, no interest in politics (even if is involved in them to some extent), a muggleborn wizard. Right.

Expect the following chapters to be longer. They are not completed yet but the next will probably be completed by 9/15, Saturday of next week. The first two chapters with be about the same time frame as the end of the prologue, and the third chapter on will be Avengers material and possibly post-Avengers.

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PROLOGUE—Satan's Little Helper

Elias Child Jr. was born into a world of changing times. He was born into an invisible war, at least to his eyes, those of his parents, and those of the rest of their kind. Non-magical people did not realize the dark intent of the wraithlike Lord Voldemort. In fact, they did not realize his existence in the slightest; they were much too occupied in their day-to-day trials and tribulations.

When Elias was eleven, he read about this man's reign and the mystery surrounding his disappearance. He was intrigued by the man and the creature that he had transformed into over the course of his life.

At age seventeen, Elias joined the ranks of the Death Eaters. This was the same year that the revival of the Triwizard Tournament had been held at Hogwarts. This was also the year that the Dark Lord returned from his lengthy absence.

When Elias first committed himself to the dark cause, Voldemort looked on at him in curiosity and just a bit of suspicion. He was only tortured twice under the Dark Lord's commission. Both occasions were for relatively minor transgressions and both punishments had been a quickly cast and quickly released Cruciatus. The worst pain did not come from the curses cast by his leader but by a man from the other side of the battlefront, a Mister Sirius Black. He cast a dark spell that burned Elias evermore with cursed flame. This unfortunate happening occurred just a month before Sirius's death, a death dealt by his very own cousin's envious hand.

Why would Sirius do commit such a deed? Simple. Bellatrix wanted Elias killed off because of his heritage but if she did it, _well_, she would be punished by the Dark Lord. The seed had been easy enough to plant in Sirius's mind. "Elias plans to kill your godson." It was all so much easier to believe with his death eater status, being in league with the Dark Lord.

But Bellatrix was never _that_ cunning, not enough to fool Elias. "I know a seed when I see one. I used them all the time in my youth."

"You are still quite young, boy, a toddler compared to the Dark Lord—"

"Silence Bellatrix, I will deal with you later." She looks stricken but leaves as ordered. "Come here." Elias walks forward, limp showing through his usually elegant stride. "How can you still walk? A lesser man would have long since given up."

"I do not believe myself to be a lesser man." Elias suppressed a grimace.

"As you shouldn't." The snake steepled his fingers and leaned forward measuredly in his chair. "Can you sit, young Elias?"

"No," he choked on his work, stifling a cry of agony as he landed on his fragile leg wrong. His legs gave out and he landed roughly on his knees, a gasp of pain coming through this time.

Voldemort stood and glided forward to meet Elias. "You will not be able to fight when the time comes to do so."

"Even if I am not able, I will take part; it is my duty to you and to the future of the wizarding world."

"You will not. You would be killed early on."

"Have more faith in my abilities, teacher." The coined title was used reverently, so the Dark Lord did not—at least perceptibly—pass over the name with little more than brief acknowledgement. "And if I were to die, I know it would be for good purpose."

The older man flew into a fury. "Dying does not serve any purpose! _Life_ and _freedom_, Elias, _that_ is purpose. I did not think you were so naïve."

And Elias thought to himself: 'but death is just life's next great adventure.' But he did not dare say such a thing and lose Lord Voldemort's…friendship? How would he define their relationship? If the age difference wasn't so great, Elias might consider them brothers. He supposed that they could be classified as companions.

Without great medical knowledge, Voldemort struggled to heal Elias. "It's fine. Severus might be able to help."

"No. I figure the less that man has to do with any of my plans is for the better."

"Then what do you suggest? That I suffer in silence and wait for the dark magic to drain the life out of me?"

The Dark Lord hardly thought for a moment before he replied. He had something planned, and Elias figured this something had been planned for quite a while now. "You will go to America where you will not be recognized. I will retrieve you after I have won the war."

"Retrieve me? I sound like your—" Elias lost his vision for a few moments and became disoriented, his head starting to hurt. His sight began to clear, his mind becoming less fuzzy. "Pet….I REALLY FUCKING HATE YOU RIGHT NOW!" The man had just sent him via unregistered, and very much illegal, portkey to _the_ New York City. The passers-by hardly spared glances at the strange man now robed in a simple—though still very nice—black cloak so that his burns were covered.

Now what was he to do? He had no papers or proper clothes and only a modest pouch of wizard currency. He has to find…the American Board of Wizards. He distinctly remembered that one of their branches was based in New York, another in Los Angeles, and the last in Atlanta. He just had to _find_ it. His first thought of hanging around the city and scavenging for information was quickly replaced by a more...direct approach. The war could be over by the time that Elias had found their site and he was fairly positive that the light side would win. So he made a split-second decision to "make a scene," as the muggles said it.

It was as simple as turning all the traffic lights green between where he stood to as far as he could see down the street. Within the minute that followed, Elias observed a series of pile-ups, a small show of human chaos and a cacophonous uproar of cries and shouts. He stood back and watched with dead eyes, leaning against one of the concrete buildings that lined the street. 'At least no one died," Elias thought momentarily. He waited for someone to notice the only calm character in the chaos. And waited. And waited. For a full hour he stood there before collapsing, weak-kneed after he was struck with…something. His vision swam. He fell on his side and faded out to the sight of boot-clad feet.

"Wake up, son, you've got some talkin' to do." Elias woke handcuffed to a table and situated in such a way that his burnt face, shoulders, and calves were exposed. Taking a deep, raspy breath, Elias breathed out, "what would you like me to talk about? I know a bit about dinosaurs, and quite a lot about the construction of furniture." His tone and expression turned darker. "Or would you like to hear about my burns, what happened today, what's going to happen next?" The man hurriedly exited the room, the door closing with a gentle click. The door soon opened again, however, this time revealing a middle-aged man, fully uniformed in NYPD garb. "Must you scare the interns?" Elias regarded the man with a tired look that neither affirmed nor denied the statement. "So, tell me what happened today."

"There was a car crash."

"Very good, and what part did you play."

"I played the bad guy." Elias looked down for a moment, his eyebrows furrowing.

"Do you admit to manipulating the traffic lights that caused the crash?"

"Sure. Look, is it possible for me to talk to—ah, fuck, whatshisname—right, Commissioner Pinsky? It's important."

"We'll see about that. For now, another question. Tell me about that tattoo."

Elias's head whipped up from where he had been staring at the floor. "What? You—?"

"Yes. Me. Tell me why you are here…Satan's Little Helper."

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A/N: Please leave feedback. It's much appreciated!


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